


aren't we all angels

by imagines



Series: another man's treasure [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon What Canon, Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, Kuron POV, M/M, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Post-Series, Power Play, Praise Kink, Scars, Spanking, Switching, Threesome, blindfolding, enthusiastic sub keith, gentle dom Shiro, nervous top kuron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: “You know,” Keith says conversationally, “I had two birthdays in the quantum abyss, and both of you missed them.”“I was a little bit occupied at the time,” Shiro says, but he's grinning like he knows where this is going.Keith leans up, trying to bite Shiro's nose, but he's foiled by a massive floating hand shoving his face away. “Hey! I'm justsaying.”Kuron doesnotknow where this is going, but he's pretty sure he's about to find out, and that it will be memorable. Things concerning Keith usually are.“What do you think?” Shiro asks Kuron. “Should we give the birthday boy his presents?”[also known as "Keith gets a kinky birthday party and it's soft as fuck"]





	aren't we all angels

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Alt Shiro Bang](http://alt-shiro-bb.tumblr.com/), with art by Curiously-Artistic ([twitter](https://twitter.com/CuriousArtNSFW), [tumblr](https://curiously-artistic.tumblr.com/))

****They’re on leave after the war, secluded in a lakeside cabin in the mountains, far enough away from everything that they can pretend they’re the only people on the planet. No fighter jets flying training drills overhead; no shouted orders to troops of new cadets; nothing but peace and quiet for a whole week.

Just now, Keith is snuggled against Kuron's side in the huge bed the three of them are sharing, all warm skin and loose limbs from what was ostensibly a bedtime shower. Ostensibly, because it had quickly become an excuse for Keith to get on his knees and take Kuron's cock to the back of his throat, with Shiro's hand in his hair to guide him. Keith is never more relaxed than after the two of them use him like that, basking in their soft words and obvious pride.

“You know,” Keith says conversationally, “I had two birthdays in the quantum abyss, and both of you missed them.”

“I was a little bit occupied at the time,” Shiro says, but he's grinning like he knows where this is going.

Keith leans up, trying to bite Shiro's nose, but he's foiled by a massive floating hand shoving his face away. “Hey! I'm just _saying_.”

Kuron does _not_ know where this is going, but he's pretty sure he's about to find out, and that it will be memorable. Things concerning Keith usually are.

“What do you think?” Shiro asks Kuron. “Should we give the birthday boy his presents?”

Kuron slides his thumb across Keith’s mouth. Keith’s eyelids flutter shut, his lips parting around a soft gasp, and Kuron lets his thumb slip inside to stroke the tip of Keith’s wet little tongue. Often, Keith struggles to open up to either of them, fearful of exposing his tender places. He’s said himself, embarrassed and laughing, that it’s easier to tell them to fuck him hard than it is to talk to them about his feelings. But he _wants_ to let them really see him, and the moments that he lets go and bares his body and soul at once are worth every ounce of their patience. “He’s been so good for us,” Kuron murmurs. “He deserves gifts tied up in pretty ribbons.”

Without a doubt, Keith is listening to every word, his breath coming deep and trembling. Kuron pushes his thumb deeper and feels Keith working to swallow around him.

“Maybe he should get a spanking, too. For luck,” Shiro suggests. Keith’s eyes fly open, and a tiny whimper wrenches out of him. Shiro smiles down at him. “You’d need twenty-one,” he tells Keith. “Plus one to grow on. Could you take it?” Keith nods hard, and Shiro laughs. “Kuron, you and I should talk tomorrow.”

* * *

_Talking_ means waiting until the next afternoon when Keith yawns and says he’s going to take a nap. Then Shiro takes Kuron on a drive to the nearest city. They stop at a store where the merchandise makes Kuron flush red, but Shiro wanders the racks and shelves with his hands jammed in his pockets, perfectly at ease. He pulls something off a hanger and pushes it into Kuron’s hands. “What about this?”

It’s a garter belt, made of black lace and satin. Kuron thinks of its purpose and swallows hard. “For you or for me?”

Shiro takes a step back and eyes Kuron up and down. “I was thinking I’d wear sheer tights,” he says. “How do you feel about stockings?”

“I’ve—never worn them before.” Kuron’s getting lightheaded, but no one else in the store is paying any attention to them. Shiro’s human hand lands on his waist, fingers curling gently. He’s not holding Kuron in place—if anything, he’s coaxing Kuron onward to a place he desires but cannot name.

“Would you want to? I could pick some out for you.”

Kuron thinks of skin-tight fabric clinging to his legs and hiding absolutely nothing. Not even his scars. “Do you really think it’d look okay?”

Shiro’s little worried wrinkle pops up between his brows. He tilts his head, as if he knows what’s going through Kuron’s mind. And maybe he does; maybe he knows more than anyone. “You’d look hot as hell,” he says. “Keith wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you.” Then he grins. “I’m not sure I could, either.”

Shiro is acknowledging something they’ve yet to discuss in depth: that Keith is not the only one in their arrangement to whom Shiro is attracted. Maybe it’s time some discussing happened. “You wouldn’t have to,” Kuron says quietly. “Keep your hands off me, I mean. If Keith’s okay with that.”

“Oh, he’s okay with it.” Shiro’s grin has morphed into a full-on smirk. “In fact, it’s been on his mind a lot lately.”

Keith’s been getting off on the idea, is what Shiro means. Kuron is certain of it, which makes answering easy. “Okay. You can get me stockings.”

And Shiro looks like _he’s_ the one getting a present.

* * *

“Keith, would you like us to give you your birthday gifts tonight?” Shiro asks during breakfast the next morning.

Keith nearly chokes on his toast. “My—do you mean—”

“I mean we have a few surprises for you,” Shiro clarifies. “If you’re up for it.”

Keith downs half of his glass of orange juice and clears his throat. “I’m up for it.”

“Same safeword as always?” Shiro wants to know.

“Holy fuck,” Keith whispers. “Yeah. _God_.”

They have a quiet day planned: just swimming and hiking, followed by a movie once they’ve tired themselves out. Keith holds it together for most of the day, but by the time they’re nestled on the sofa with one of his favorite superhero films playing, he can’t seem to stop himself squirming every so often. Kuron kindly pretends not to notice.

Shiro is less kind. He keeps one hand on Keith’s thigh throughout the movie, squeezing and petting. By the time the credits roll, Keith is flushed and sweating and hard in his sweatpants. “Want to see the post-credits scene?” Shiro asks.

“Seen it already,” Keith gasps. “Can we just—please—”

Kuron paws at the remote, shutting off the TV. He meets Shiro’s eyes. Shiro gives him a little nod. “Go into the bedroom,” Kuron tells Keith. “Undress and lie down on the bed, but don’t touch yourself. We’ll be in soon.”

They wait until they hear the click of the bedroom door shutting. Shiro gets up and goes to the hall closet, where he’s hidden their purchases from the previous day. “Want me to help you?” he asks. “It’s a little tricky if you’ve never worn all this before.”

“Okay,” Kuron says. Already the atmosphere is something new. They do this for Keith, usually. All for Keith. Kuron has never before stood in front of Shiro and stripped naked for _him_. He has no idea how to do it gracefully, so he just pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his jeans and boxers like he would at any other time. But Shiro watches him, and when he finishes, the dazed expression on Shiro’s face is—well, Kuron would like to make it happen again, that’s all.

“Here.” Shiro passes him a scrap of black fabric, which turns out to be a pair of very tiny satin briefs. “You can wear those under the garter belt,” Shiro explains. “If you want.”

First time for everything, right? Kuron pulls them on. They don’t cover much, which he supposes is the point.

Shiro fastens the clasps of the garter belt around Kuron’s hips, and then he nudges Kuron back toward the sofa. “This will be easier if you sit down.” Then, as if Kuron isn’t already on the verge of catastrophic implosion, Shiro kneels between his legs and grasps Kuron’s ankle in his bionic hand. He’s about eye-level with Kuron’s dick, and—Kuron can’t think about that right now, or he might not make it to the bedroom. As it is, Shiro can already see exactly what all of this is doing to him.

Shiro slips the first stocking—carefully rolled—over Kuron’s toes and begins to smooth it up his calf. His hands are huge, the Altean one being particularly intimidating, yet his touch is delicate and the thin fabric is never in danger of tearing. Shiro works his way over Kuron’s knee, and then up his thigh, stopping a few inches below the briefs. He fastens the clips on that side, one in front and one behind, and repeats the whole process with the other stocking. “Feel all right?” he asks.

Kuron has never been more aware of his own legs, that’s how it feels. “It’s fine,” he says. It’s a little more than fine.

Shiro’s eyes bore into his, fire hidden in their ash-gray depths. “Fine,” he repeats in a soft voice. His huge hand still grips the top of Kuron’s thigh, his thumb digging into the adductors. “Glad to hear it.” Then he gets up and rummages in their shopping bag for his tights. He doesn’t turn his back when he undresses, and he _does_ do it slowly, so that Kuron gets the full impact of every inch of skin as Shiro reveals himself. Scars carve his body into a map of pain, each one marking a moment of fear and agony.

Kuron has most of the same scars, which he knows were duplicated on his own body at his creation although he cannot recall it, and a few others besides. It’s strange, to possess the memories of a life he did not live. Claws never sank into his flesh; magic and fire never burned him; a jolt of something like electricity never sent red tendrils flaring out across his skin like frost on a windowpane. But he remembers it all anyway. He remembers more than Shiro seems to, in fact, because they were too thorough when they formed Kuron’s mind.

Shiro almost has his tights on now, tucking himself inside and adjusting them so the lines on the backs of his legs run straight up his calves and thighs all the way to his ass. He turns in a slow circle, holding his arms out to the sides. “What do you think?”

Kuron can’t seem to manage words, only a small sound like a crushed-down gasp, but it’s apparently enough to answer Shiro’s question.

“Good,” Shiro says. “Ready to go see him?” He holds out a hand to Kuron, who takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

But Shiro doesn’t let him go right away—just stands there, looking at him, holding his hand like it’s easy.

What it _is_ , is devastating. “What—” Kuron starts to ask, but he doesn’t know how to express all the questions in his heart, and he lets himself fade back into silence instead.

“May I kiss you?” Shiro asks, so softly it makes something ache deep in Kuron’s chest.

Kuron laughs, sort of, a high-pitched noise wrenched out of him, a bit hysterical, and he sees right away that Shiro is misinterpreting it dramatically.

“It’s all right if not,” Shiro continues, still in the same gentle tone. “I won’t be upset. You just seem a little nervous, and I thought maybe if I—”

“No, no, you can, I…” Another terrible little giggle crawls out of Kuron’s throat. “It’s just funny, is all.”

Shiro’s eyebrows creep upwards—infinitesimally, as if he’s trying to hide his confusion.

“You know,” Kuron tries to explain. “We’ve had sex with Keith at the same time, we’ve seen each other—come, but…”

Shiro squeezes his hand. “But we’ve never kissed.”

There’s a tiny smile on Shiro’s lips, and Kuron wants to bite him for it. Bite his mouth and make him gasp; make him fray and fall apart the same way Kuron feels whenever Shiro looks at him. “…Yeah.”

“But you want to?” Shiro double-checks everything like it’s second nature—travel plans, engine readouts, weather forecasts, and emotional states. He always leaves an escape route open, and that makes Kuron want to stay exactly where he is.

“I do,” Kuron breathes, and then Shiro’s stepping right inside Kuron’s atmosphere, wrapping his arms loosely around Kuron’s waist.

Shiro kisses like he fucks, taking his time, licking and sucking and biting at Kuron’s lips, until finally he presses in with his tongue and starts working open Kuron’s mouth.

And, god, does Kuron want to open up for Shiro—for his tongue, for his fingers, for his cock, for whatever Shiro wants to give him. He cannot speak his want aloud, but he moans around Shiro’s tongue and clings to Shiro’s arms with shaking fingers.

Shiro’s hold on him tightens, and he pulls Kuron against him—against his dick, which is hard against Kuron’s hip and not the least bit concealed by Shiro’s tights. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs against Kuron’s lips. “It’s all right, I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you.”

“We should,” Kuron gasps out, “we should go to Keith, he’s waiting, he’s…”

“Mmm,” Shiro says. He gives one last little kiss to Kuron’s lower lip, then turns him loose—but his hand slides into Kuron’s again. “You’re right. He’s been very patient. Why don’t we go reward him for it?”

* * *

Keith is lying against the headboard when they enter the room, hands behind his head. In any other scenario, he’d appear totally relaxed. Here, his restless body betrays his need, his thighs squeezing together and his hips jerking ever so slightly against thin air. He’s pressing his head back hard into the pillows--it’s clear he has pinned down his own hands, determined to resist gratifying himself. When his gaze drops to where Kuron and Shiro’s hands are linked, his eyes widen. “Hi,” he says. “Nice clothes.”

“We didn’t make you wait too long, did we?” Shiro asks.

Keith tosses his head, a little indignant. “I didn’t touch myself, if that’s what you mean.”

“I know you didn’t,” Shiro soothes him. “It must have been hard, looking at your cock for so long, knowing you could take care of yourself and we’d never know.”

Keith is biting his lip, breath hissing out through his teeth.

“You did so well waiting for us. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Shiro stops a few feet from the bed and lets go of Kuron’s hand so he can beckon to Keith. “Come here and open your presents, baby.”

Keith scrambles off the bed and comes to join them. He tugs on one of the straps on Kuron’s garter belt; sticks his fingertips just underneath the top of Shiro’s tights. “I don’t wanna ruin these,” he hedges, stretching the material away from Shiro’s hip, then letting it snap back.

“They were cheap,” Shiro assures him. “So go ahead and ruin them.”

Keith doesn’t wait to be told twice. In seconds he’s torn open a large hole in the tights, releasing Shiro’s dick from the confines of the fabric.

Shiro laughs as Keith gets a hand around him. “In a hurry or something?”

“To get my hands on your cock? Always.”

Shiro’s forehead drops onto Keith’s shoulder, and he groans, hips jolting forward as Keith strokes him. “God, baby. I love how you touch me.” He reaches down to palm Keith’s ass. “But right now, I want you to stand right there, hang on tight, and come all over me.”

“ _Ohh_ ,” Keith sighs. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck as Shiro cups him between his legs, rocking helplessly into Shiro’s hand.

“You’ve been so good,” Shiro purrs in Keith’s ear. “So kind and loving to us both. So devoted to helping the universe rebuild. We’re proud of you, Keith. Tonight is all for you—to celebrate you and love you just how you deserve.”

Keith’s knees start to buckle, but Kuron comes up behind him to help hold him up. Between the two of them, they keep Keith on his feet until he’s spilling into Shiro’s hand and onto Shiro’s tights. He slumps in their arms, struggling to catch his breath. “Was that one of the presents?” he asks.

Kuron kisses the back of his neck. “One of many.”

“Oh god,” Keith says weakly. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Funny, I was just going to say you should,” Shiro says. “On your stomach, baby. We promised you something for luck.”

All the things they’ve done together, yet Keith’s never made _that_ sound before. He walks on shaking legs to the bed, where he collapses and presses his face into a pillow. Kuron and Shiro climb up behind him, kneeling on either side of his legs.

Shiro lays his flesh hand on Keith’s bare ass. Keith gasps, his spine going rigid. Shiro laughs, low in the back of his throat. “No surprises, sweetheart. You’ll know when it’s coming.” He rubs gently in soft, slow circles. “We were thinking we could each do half. How’s that sound?”

Keith nods against his pillow. “Yeah,” he answers, quiet and muffled. “That sounds good.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows at Kuron. “Want to do the first set?”

The bottom drops out of Kuron’s fragile confidence. “I’m—I don’t know if—”

Shiro’s metal hand lands on his knee, a warm and grounding weight. “It can feel weird the first time you do it. Are you worried you’ll hurt him?”

Keith is a force to be reckoned with in either armed or hand-to-hand combat. But stripped of his armor and marked with his own set of scars as he is, the very sight of him makes Kuron long to cover and protect him. Hasn’t he already caused Keith enough pain?

He doesn’t know how to say all of this to Shiro, but there are benefits to sharing a great deal of their memories. Shiro’s grip on his knee tightens. “This isn’t the kind of pain you’re imagining. He gets something out of it that he can’t get elsewhere.”

Keith lifts his head slightly. “It feels good,” he says. “Like a really, really awesome massage, but even more intense.”

Pain feeling good isn’t something Kuron’s ever experienced in his short existence, but he knows Keith would never lie about this. “…I could try.”

“You can just do it once,” Shiro offers. “And see how it feels.”

“Okay,” Kuron says. “Okay. I can—yeah.” Keith has put his head down again. Trusting them to do what feels good for him. He trails his fingertips over Keith’s ass; it makes Keith shiver. Oh, Kuron aches to make Keith feel good. He clings to that desperate desire as he raises his hand and brings his palm down—

Keith _yelps_ . _“_ Fuck. Holy _fuck_. Just like that. Please, please…”

Kuron stares at the red mark on Keith’s ass—a blurred patch standing out against pale skin, like a wound, like a brand, like—no, _no_ , it’s not like that at all, he reminds himself. Keith is spreading his legs, his toes curling, because he likes this, because it feels good, because it’s going to get him off. So Kuron tries again.

Keith makes it easy. “More,” he pleads, his eyes squeezed shut. “I need it, I need you, I’m so hard—”

He can’t bring himself to hit Keith with much force, but eleven light slaps with his left hand still turn Keith’s ass a pale rose color. And it’s enough to leave Keith panting and squirming against the bed.

“Beautiful,” Shiro murmurs, appraising Kuron’s work. “Ready for more, baby?”

Keith’s answer is a soft whimper: “Please,” he begs, and the sound of him so needy sparks fire low in Kuron’s stomach.

“Anything for you,” Shiro tells him, and hits Keith hard enough to leave a bright, clear handprint. Keith yells into the pillow. Shiro does it again before Keith has managed to quiet himself. Eleven strikes like that, and every one makes Keith shout. By the last few, Keith’s voice is hitching on his cries, and when they turn him over, his cheeks are wet.

“Holy shit,” Keith breathes.

Shiro pets Keith’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m _floating_. Whoa. We should do that again.”

Shiro’s grinning. “We’ll remember that.”

They help him sit upright and lean against the headboard. Kuron takes a bottle of water from the nightstand and hands it to Keith. He runs the back of his hand over his mouth when he’s sated. “So… is there more you have planned?”

“If you’re up for it.” Shiro noses at the side of his neck. “But we can take a break if you need to.”

“Mmm. No, I’m good.” Keith turns to Kuron. “Besides, I haven’t opened my other present yet.”

“What oth— _oh_.” Keith’s hands are on Kuron’s thighs, playing with the clips holding up his stockings.

“These are nice,” Keith says. Almost casually: “Shiro get them for you?”

Well, it’s not like it’s a secret. “Yeah.”

“He’s got good taste.” Keith runs his fingertips lightly down the inside of Kuron’s leg, watching the muscles jerk under his touch. “I think he should be the one to take them off you.”

Kuron finds himself in the reverse of his earlier situation: Shiro deftly unfastens the belt and peels the stockings down Kuron’s legs, and then all that’s left is the satin underwear. Shiro hooks his fingers in the waistband, looking up at Kuron through his lashes. “Okay?”

Kuron nods, and moments later, he’s bare in front of Shiro once again. Shiro’s shoulders keep his legs apart, so there’s no hiding his state of mind—he’s hard and dripping, and Shiro’s staring at his dick like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Kuron.” Keith’s voice snaps him to attention. “Want him to blow you?”

“If—if that’s okay, if you both want—” Kuron stops short, hardly able to believe what he’s hearing.

Keith leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet and deep. “Oh, he wants to. And I want to watch. Would you like that?”

Alone in the middle of the night, with a hand around himself, Kuron has thought about it: Shiro’s gorgeous mouth around him, pulling helpless sounds from him until he comes. When no one’s around to hear him whisper Shiro’s name, yeah, he’s let himself consider it. He can’t make himself admit this yet, but he can moan and nod, which gets the point across well enough. “Is it really—” Kuron stares down at Shiro, resplendent in his shredded tights. “Are you okay with that?”

Shiro nuzzles the inside of his thigh. “Give me your cock, honey. I can take it.”

The memories inscribed in Kuron’s mind prove Shiro’s claim: Shiro swallowing around Keith, nose buried in the dark curls at the base, his senses flooded with the sound and scent and taste of his lover. Keith with his palms braced against a wall, Shiro on his knees in front of him, fucking into Shiro’s mouth while Shiro drove three fingers into him, until Keith’s own knees buckled and he crumpled into Shiro’s lap. Yeah, Kuron knows Shiro can take it.

“He likes it if you hold him down,” Keith says.

The words do not make sense at first, and then Keith’s taking Kuron’s hand and placing it on the back of Shiro’s head, and Shiro is moaning loud around Kuron, and Keith is pressing Shiro’s head down down down until Kuron feels himself brushing the back of Shiro’s throat. Shiro’s face is flushing red; he constricts around Kuron, struggling to keep himself open to the invasion. Kuron tries not to move, tries not to moan, but Shiro’s choking himself on his cock, and the slick hot satin of Shiro’s throat rips a cry out of him, puts him on edge and sends him tumbling over before he knows what’s happening—

Shiro comes up for air, coughing and gasping. Kuron runs a thumb over Shiro’s mouth, shining wet and swollen. “You all right?”

“You’re big,” Shiro rasps. He kisses Kuron’s thumb.

It startles Kuron into laughing. “You’re surprised?” Their bodies are nearly identical, after all.

“Well, I’ve never sucked my own dick,” Shiro huffs. “Felt a lot bigger once it was inside me. Good, though.” Shiro’s eyes are as familiar as a mirror’s gaze, his scar a perfect match for the one carved across Kuron’s own face, but their similar appearance masks their vastly different lives.

Memories aren’t everything, Kuron supposes.

“Do you want to try the other thing?” Shiro raises his brows at Kuron. “You remember what we talked about, right?”

Kuron doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. “I’m ready if you are.”

Shiro opens the nightstand drawer to reveal another surprise: a length of soft black fabric, which he holds out to Kuron. “You can do the honors,” he says, and leans forward so Kuron can tie the blindfold over his eyes.

“Oh my god.” Keith is digging his nails into his thighs, staring. “Really?”

Shiro raises his head, grinning. “Does it look as good as you imagined?” he asks Keith.

Keith reaches out, cradling Shiro’s jaw in his hand. Shiro presses into his touch. “You look incredible.”

“I just have one condition.” Shiro’s grin turns devious, one corner of his mouth curling up. “Since I can’t see the two of you, I’ll need you to tell me what you’re doing with him. Think you can handle that?”

Keith’s throat works as he swallows hard. He looks nervous, yet determined. “I’ll do my best,” he promises.

“That’s all I ask. I know it’s hard for you.” Shiro lays his hands on Keith’s thighs, petting him. “No matter what, you’re always amazing.”

Keith turns to Kuron. “So… what do you wanna do?” For the first time, he seems shy; it must be the prospect of describing his actions out loud.

“Whatever you want,” Kuron says. He lays his hand on Keith’s shoulder, watching Keith’s eyes flutter closed at the comforting touch. “Whatever makes you feel good.”

“I don’t—I’m not sure how to—” Keith takes a deep breath and tries again. “Just—touch me? Anywhere?”

Kuron opts to kiss him, holding Keith’s head still and flicking his tongue against the seam of Keith’s lips. Then he begins a slow journey down Keith’s throat, noting his racing pulse.

“Talk to me, Keith,” Shiro prompts. “Why are you making such pretty sounds?”

“Um. Fuck.” Keith’s Adam’s apple jumps under Kuron’s mouth. “He’s, ah, kissing my neck.”

“Good. Where else is he touching you?”

Kuron could be kind and put his hands somewhere innocuous, or—he could make Keith _say it_ already. He bites down on Keith’s shoulder and wraps one hand around Keith’s cock, not moving yet, just listening to his breath shake.

“Mm—my—”

Kuron gives him an encouraging squeeze.

“ _Mngh_ —my cock, he’s touching my cock, _ohh_ …”

“Baby, that’s so good, you’re doing great,” Shiro praises. “Do you want more?”

Keith whimpers.

“Go ahead, ask him for what you want. You can do this, Keith.”

Keith hangs his head, breathing hard. His next words sound as if he’s dragged them out of his very core, a monumental effort. “Please,” he whispers. “I need more. Please give me more.”

Kuron decides to have a little mercy—but not too much mercy—and begins to stroke Keith ever so slowly. Keith’s whole body trembles, as if he can barely hold himself up on his knees anymore, so Kuron nudges him to lie down on his back.

Keith fumbles for Shiro’s hand, gripping tightly when he finds it. “He’s jerking me off. Rubbing his thumb over the tip, _ah_ , his fingers are—mmf—”

“In his mouth,” Kuron finishes for him. “Get them wet, Keith.”

Shiro’s biting his lip so hard it makes Kuron wince to look at it. “Are you going to finger him?”

Kuron can’t help smirking. “You’ll have to listen and find out, won’t you?”

Keith curls his tongue between Kuron’s fingers, muffled whines slipping out as Kuron presses deep into his mouth. He’s panting by the time Kuron stops and reaches between his legs. “He’s—touching—oh fuck, I can’t, I can’t—”

Kuron leans down to kiss his cheek. “If you want it, you have to say it. It’s just us, Keith. You can tell us.”

There’s a brief pause as Keith wrestles with himself. Finally, in a small voice: “My—hole.”

“Good job.” Kuron teases one fingertip inside him. “And now?”

“He’s inside me, it’s, oh god it’s good…”

Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand hard. “How many fingers?”

“Just one.”

“Can you take more?”

“Mmn—yeah.”

Kuron takes the hint. He makes sure the click of the bottlecap opening is loud by Shiro’s ear, and Shiro gasps to hear it. It stokes a slow fire inside Kuron, knowing he’s got both of them strung out for him. And he’s not even touching Shiro.

He sinks two slick fingers into Keith, reveling in the hot clench of his body; the arch of his spine; the hiss through his teeth as he struggles to endure the slow, relentless thrust.

“Two,” Keith chokes out. Shiro reaches for him then and kisses him, whispering reverent words into his pretty mouth, until even Shiro’s tongue isn’t enough to quell the sounds Keith is making.

Kuron gets down between Keith’s thighs, his breath fanning hot over the head of Keith’s cock. “Can I make you come, Keith?”

“Oh fuck,” Keith says. “You’re gonna _kill_ me.”

“Do it.” Shiro’s hand is in Keith’s hair, strands wound tight around his fingers. “He sounds so desperate for you.”

“He looks like it, too,” Kuron murmurs. “Believe me.” He pulls almost all the way out, lingering with his fingers just inside Keith’s entrance, playing with his sensitive rim until Keith is twitching and trying to fuck himself on Kuron’s hand. Kuron lays his free arm across Keith’s hips to keep him still. “Why don’t you tell Shiro what I’m doing to you right now?”

“He’s teasing me,” Keith complains.

“What a shame.” Shiro kisses Keith’s temple. “How is he teasing you, exactly? Remember, I can’t see you. I need details.”

“He’s just—his fingers, he’s barely even—” Keith explains, not the least bit eloquently. And then, because Kuron chooses that moment to spread his fingers apart: “Oh shit, fucking _fuck_ will you _fuck me already_ —”

Kuron considers the both of them—Shiro with a hand around himself and speeding up; Keith fighting a losing battle to keep his composure. “You get your wish,” he tells Keith, and drives his fingers in hard. Keith yells and thrashes under the weight of Kuron’s arm, but he can’t break away. Kuron wraps his lips around the head of Keith’s cock, tonguing under the delicate foreskin and marvelling at the wail that wrings from Keith. When Keith’s body tenses, Kuron lets him slip out of his mouth, switching to gripping his shaft with his free hand instead. “Say it,” he reminds Keith.

“I’m—fuck, I’m close, I’m so—” Eyes screwed shut, lashes wet, flushed from face to torso, Keith writhes in exquisite agony and Kuron can’t look away.

“You’re so good, Keith,” he says. “So beautiful, so sweet, oh, _angel_ —”

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop I’m coming—”

It splashes hot across Kuron’s hand and Keith’s stomach, just as Shiro turns his head and groans into Keith’s shoulder, spilling into his own palm.

They breathe in silence for a moment, regrouping.

“I could listen to you two all night,” Shiro says, unwinding the blindfold.

Keith laughs weakly. “Don’t know if I have the stamina for that.”

Shiro’s got that evil little smirk again. “Maybe sometime we can find out.”

Keith’s eyes widen, but before he can respond, the air turns electric with the scent of ozone. There’s a soft _pop_ , and the space wolf appears in the middle of the bed.

“Hey, boy!” Keith wraps his arms around the wolf, burying his face in the fluffy mane. “What are you doing here?”

The wolf whuffs softly and licks Keith’s face.

“At least you waited,” Keith says. “Please tell me you didn’t do your little psychic link trick to find out when we were, uh. Done.”

Wide-eyed, the wolf tilts his head, as if to say _I would never!_

“Yeah, you’re the picture of innocence.” Keith flops down again; the wolf flops down between him and Kuron.

Shiro and Kuron arrange themselves in the remaining space on the bed, of which there isn’t much left. Kuron drapes his arm over the wolf so he can rest his palm on Keith’s stomach.

He isn’t expecting to feel Shiro’s hand curl around his, big and warm and comforting. But he has no intention of letting go.

“Hey,” Keith says. “You called me _angel_.”

Kuron isn’t sure what that tone of voice means—sort of tense, but not unhappy? “Oh. You heard that.”

“…I liked it.”

So it’s Keith’s uncertainty stalking his thoughts again. Kuron can help with that. “You saved me,” he whispers. “Of course you’re my angel.” He steals a peek over the mountain of fur that is Keith’s wolf: there are spots of color on Keith’s cheeks, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny.

“Don’t know if I’m much of an angel,” Keith mutters. “But if it makes you happy…”

“ _You_ make me happy,” Kuron tells him.

Shiro tightens his fingers around Kuron’s hand. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re his angel and my baby, and there’s no way around it. You’re just gonna have to put up with us.”

“We’ve all saved each other more than a few times,” Keith points out. “So aren’t we all angels?”

Keith has a point. They fell with each other—fell into each other—and ended up here, in this strange fate where none of them should be alive and yet all of them are.

“I’m glad you guys got so cozy. It’s cute.” Keith speaks around a yawn, setting his hands on top of theirs. “And, mm, I wouldn’t mind watching you together again.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either,” Shiro says, deceptively casual. “You’re not the only one with a birthday, you know. I might have a few wishes too.”

A shudder runs through Keith. “You should tell me about it. After we sleep.”

“After we sleep,” Shiro promises, “I’ll tell you everything.”

How shocking it is, to have time to talk later—to have their lives ahead of them. It could almost be called a miracle.

**Author's Note:**

> what's up i'm mei and i'm still crying about kuron! you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith) if you wanna cry with me too. :)
> 
> remember how kuron wished he had a pet name for keith? well, now he does. <3


End file.
